This poem captures that strange mix of surrender and effort beautifully, where rowing becomes meditation and the journey itself matters more than the desination. The tidal imagery really resonates since I spend alot of time near water and there's something hypnotic about watching the rhythym of waves that you've described perfectly here. That line about your own tidal heart moving through a tidal world hits different when you sit with it.
A lovely poem, David. “The pilgrim island in the end, just a brief passage away…” is the line that sticks with me in this still dark morning before dawn. Such a blessed truth. Tomorrow it may be a different line, “but the boatman knows his art,” and I am happy with that.
I have read this out loud passionately to dozing animals in my snow encased studio several times this morning and am still trying to get a full breath from the passion invoked from within it. This revelation as poem that signifies to me the arc of Soul through countless lifetimes and the attending repetitions, hesitancies and fears, the longings and uncertainties, Beauties and perils, the constancy and the returning urge towards familiar destinations all held by some benevolent force of hidden directional surety with unmeasured capacities and risk, and, and... and I can't even put more of my pedestrian words to what moves in me reading and speaking this comprehending, fervent call to Life. But I so appreciate that you can, and always accompanied by the vast spirits of Grace.
Fantastic! I felt myself in the boat, riding the waves, scaling the seas of life right along with you. Fantastic journey. So dynamic yet so brief. May our waves be mild and our journeys sweet. Sail on. Sail away. . . !
Once when I was very young, maybe 7, I dreamed I fell into a choppy, heaving, tumultuous sea. She threw me this way and that. She lifted me and dunked me. I could tell the sea was my friend, she was showing me that, so I played in her with delight and abandon until she lifted me onto the rocks and left me in a standing position spellbound with starry eyed gratitude and fulfillment.
David, The Pilgrim Island lands as a perfect companion to your teachings on thresholds and inner tides—especially how we row into alignment with what’s already moving within us.
This poem captures that strange mix of surrender and effort beautifully, where rowing becomes meditation and the journey itself matters more than the desination. The tidal imagery really resonates since I spend alot of time near water and there's something hypnotic about watching the rhythym of waves that you've described perfectly here. That line about your own tidal heart moving through a tidal world hits different when you sit with it.
A lovely poem, David. “The pilgrim island in the end, just a brief passage away…” is the line that sticks with me in this still dark morning before dawn. Such a blessed truth. Tomorrow it may be a different line, “but the boatman knows his art,” and I am happy with that.
I have read this out loud passionately to dozing animals in my snow encased studio several times this morning and am still trying to get a full breath from the passion invoked from within it. This revelation as poem that signifies to me the arc of Soul through countless lifetimes and the attending repetitions, hesitancies and fears, the longings and uncertainties, Beauties and perils, the constancy and the returning urge towards familiar destinations all held by some benevolent force of hidden directional surety with unmeasured capacities and risk, and, and... and I can't even put more of my pedestrian words to what moves in me reading and speaking this comprehending, fervent call to Life. But I so appreciate that you can, and always accompanied by the vast spirits of Grace.
Deep sense of familiarity floods over me reading that poem… trust the process, allowing destination to materialize
Fantastic! I felt myself in the boat, riding the waves, scaling the seas of life right along with you. Fantastic journey. So dynamic yet so brief. May our waves be mild and our journeys sweet. Sail on. Sail away. . . !
Thank you Pirjo!
Thank you, Angie!
the gifted air
…
the wooden oars
like grown wings
💕
David - The Pilgrim Island took my breath away. Your splendid piece will sustain me again and again as your work has done for many years.
Thank you!
Once when I was very young, maybe 7, I dreamed I fell into a choppy, heaving, tumultuous sea. She threw me this way and that. She lifted me and dunked me. I could tell the sea was my friend, she was showing me that, so I played in her with delight and abandon until she lifted me onto the rocks and left me in a standing position spellbound with starry eyed gratitude and fulfillment.
David, The Pilgrim Island lands as a perfect companion to your teachings on thresholds and inner tides—especially how we row into alignment with what’s already moving within us.
I traced similar ground this morning in a column on two of your quotes from The House of Belonging, mapping them to practical steps for vitality and the “invisible side.” Would welcome your thoughts: https://open.substack.com/pub/swlion26/p/personal-development-through-poetry?r=52t15r&utm_medium=ios&shareImageVariant=overlay
Grateful for this poem today.
Love this...
Just spoke to everything I was thinking about this morning, thank you